Honor Lucas
Nick names: They are as follows: Pumpkin, Whiny Little Whelp, and The Devil's Own Librarian, and none of which are recent nicknames. Recently, there has been a popular trend toward Honor. As if her hippie name can instill all the saintly virtues and so spare the life of a sniveling human who knows all too well she's going to kill, butcher, cook, eat, suck on the bones and possibly record the recipe. With the surge of obscure fantasy concepts in pop culture, some of her victims call her Skinwalker.
Appearance: How can such a soft, tea drinking, animal loving, art gallery wandering, hippie girl be a demon? It isn't cannibalism if a demon eats a human, it's the natural order of the food chain, and as long as humans aren't GMOs, they are a healthy reliable source of protein. Sustainable too, so it is very Eco-friendly. Hippie and demon are not mutually exclusive. I do have some concern about the amount of processed corn in the human diet. Variety is important, and it just isn't in the nutrition labels. Her appearance was originally genetics and her mother raising her in the 60s, and later, the tender nurturing of a shapeshifter who didn't see the sense in aging when the rage was looking as young as humanly possible. She keeps pictures to remember what she looked like when she lived with her mother. She returned to her mother's side of the divorce-divide in time for the late 80s. It isn't hard to figure out which decade her current hair style can be attributed to. But if she's not looking herself, well, she's gotten used to it, and so will you, if you've got the time. She can pluck the image of loved ones from the mind of someone who makes eye contact. She has used this power to look like parents and siblings to bypass a child's ingrained behavior to never go home with strangers, and with a little studying up, can fool most lovers. She likes crowded public places where people carelessly make eye contact and utilizes her power when her actions originate from her demonic heritage. Triggering her residual human behaviors causes a reflexive switch to her original human form.
Who’s your Parental Unit?: A very nice woman who likes crocheting and kittens. A very happy papa who has a barn full of mad two-headed horses and runs a spa that caters to fiends, human and demon alike, and facilitates business transactions measured in souls. They would not appreciate the term "unit", as neither believes the other is qualified to be raising their child, and they are very much separated. As separated as earth and hell. Except for holidays. It would be sacrilegious to not have all the family in hell for the holidays.
Who is your Guardian: She's new at this. She tried the classifieds, but exactly how do you word a notice that you're a demon looking for its mistress/master without getting calls from every S&M roleplaying Satanist in town?
Theme song: Devil Inside by INIX
Here comes the woman, with the look in her eye
Raised on leather, with flesh on her mind
Words as weapons, sharper than knives
Makes you wonder, how the other half die?
Here comes the man, with the look in his eye
Fed on nothing, but full of pride
Look at them go, look at them kick
Makes you wonder, how the other half live
The devil inside, the devil inside
Every single one of us the devil inside
The devil inside, the devil inside
Every single one of us the devil inside
Here come the world, with the look in its eye
Future uncertain, but certainly slight
Look at the faces, listen to the bells
It's hard to believe we need a place called hell
History: She thought she was human. Her mother and her father were only together for four years, the first four of her life, and she had no memory of that time. When her parents separated, her mom received full custody, on the condition that if she asked to meet her father before her sixteenth birthday, the custody would transfer. Her father was betting on a child's natural curiosity, and though it took longer than either of the parents thought possible of their precocious little girl, he won. In Briar Rose style, the night before the anticipated birthday, she did the wrong thing and triggered a nasty sort of curse. Her mother was a 'good sport', dropped her off at the innocuous rural retreat her father owned, and promised she'd mail care packages to help with the transition.
Neither parent had warned her. So when she was greeted by shapeshifters pretending to be stableboys and led to the barn ---"your father said this might bring back old memories; you used to love the horses", grin grin, smirk smirk--- nothing prepared her for the humor of demons. Horses, two heads to one body, panic and terror written in the whites of their eyes, each trying to run in opposite directions from the creature controlling half their body. Ineffectual lead ropes rubbing horseflesh raw, working like dull saws against the horses' fear; bright new blood and dark old blood making a mosaic on the barn floor; the acrid stink of fear; the loud buzzing of flies; and the audible wriggling of maggots feasting on horses that had already torn themselves apart. She was human, her mind couldn't cope with this kind of senseless torment on beasts that had no power to end it. She ran forward, her breaking mind believing if she could just reach out, touch them, calm them, that it would somehow be alright--- and the mere touch of her fingertips on their joined hide catalyzed the torture, granting the poor beasts the final burst of adrenaline to run and rend flesh from flesh.
She fainted. The shapeshifters had a good laugh. Her father, having watched it all from the porch of the main building, fetched his daughter, saw to it that she was cleaned of the blood and put in a snugly robe and tucked into bed. He hadn't even told her the good news: she was a shifter too. When she woke, they had a nice father-daughter chat: "You know pumpkin, way back when, humans used to tear each other apart. Mobs, fed on fear, found scapegoats and tied a rope to each mortal limb, and tied those ropes to horses, who were driven to panic, and to tear men and women apart. Off go the legs and arms! Pop! Pop! The horses don't escape the memories. That's all you saw, pumpkin. Memories. They can't hurt you. [...] You don't have to be afraid anymore. You don't ever have to doubt that you've done the right thing, or that you don't live up to someone's expectations. My pumpkin can be whoever she wants to be. And I'm not just saying that because you are my daughter and I love you. I'm saying it precisely because you are my daughter, and you've inherited from the best. You're a shapeshifter, like me and those boys. Don't mind what they did earlier: just boys showing off for the boss's daughter. Really, don't pay them any mind: they are lowbred and I'd kill the first one that tried anything with a daughter of mine. That's what fathers are for, right? Oh, pumpkin. Do you need a cup of hot cocoa? You really look a mess. Your mother shouldn't have kept you from me for so long. If you'd been with me, I would have made sure you knew about your powers, and then you wouldn't be sitting there with your eyes all puffy and your nose red. Here's a tip: close your eyes and think of a lovely face -doesn't have to be your own- and concentrate on that for a bit. When you open your eyes, it'll be fixed. Well, maybe you aren't up to it right now... Listen, I don't have a tissue right now (demons don't get the sniffles, doncha know) but I'm sure I can get some if this is part of your routine. Your mother said something to me on the phone about teenage hormones and I realize you were raised human (he said it like it was Catholicism or veganism, something that could be accommodated but didn't alter who I was when it came to basics, like species), but I'm sure we'll learn to get along fine after you've had time to settle in. You are staying, right? I haven't spent quality time with you in such a long while. I've been looking forward to watching your horns grown in (Another demon pun, meaning, loosely, he was anticipating my abrupt change in personality that marked a demon's coming of age, the sudden desire to rape, pillage and plunder or tempt priests into teaching altar boys sodomy was only bad in Sodom & Gomorrah because Christ hadn't saved our souls yet. Horns being a time honored symbol of power, though entirely symbolic among demons. At the time, I was sure he was telling me I would sprout horns. Which I did, shortly thereafter, but only because he'd put the idea in my head and I had no bumf*** clue how easy it was to shapeshift.) but you weren't even the slightest bit curious about your old man and I feared you'd be in your thirties and looking for someone to walk you down the aisle before you remembered every little girl has a daddy. You really had me worried, kiddo. But you did say the magic words, just in the nick of time. I really wish I'd been able to be there for you since the beginning." And he looked so normal and fatherly when he said the last bit, I instinctively hugged him, pushing the whole 'demon' thing away into a corner marked "Weird But Maybe We Can Deal With This Together Later, As A Family". Which was fool stupid, because as kindly and loving as papa was, he also thought being a demon should come instinctively, and never prepared me for any of it. She spent three years with her father. Very important years, in which she did all the things human girls inevitably do, like develop a crush on the wrong boy, and break the heart of the right boy, and discover there is a life after acne. The time was mostly spent having panic attacks, piecing together her fractured reality and reassessing her identity. It took an internship cataloging summoned demons and familiar bonds (I'd like to think Hell has clerical work, seems vastly appropriate if you've ever had to file paperwork) for her to gain some measure of comfort with being a demon and her shapeshifting.
It took decades reintegrating into the human world for her to come to terms with one simple fact: she had grown her horns after all, and was far more demon than she'd ever been human. Bacon was the gateway meat, and now she has a taste for the other pig: humans. Like any other dangerous addict or wild animal, she is willing to kill to feed, kill those who get in the way, and kill out of necessity. Her idea of what is necessary is convoluted at the best of times, and does not pertain exclusively to the basics of food, water, shelter and safety. She always has a reason to kill and if it is particularly gory, there was a reason for the pain she inflicted. She's lost the ability to feel guilty about it. She isn't remarkably strong or well versed in martial arts, but she has the strong advantage that she doesn't hold back and is unpredictable, making her dangerous even when up against veteran fighters. Shapeshifting provides an outlet for overpowering an opponent, but as she's stayed out of the war, she hasn't had cause to rely on it. She was informally educated on human limits and has academic knowledge of dark arts. She cannot perform magic, but those who cannot do, teach, or buy those who can. Knowledge is a trade good, and if it benefits her, she will educate. The residual humanity resides within her in the form of phobias, which by definition are irrational fears. For example, she shouldn't fear becoming a vampire's ghoul because she isn't human, and so it couldn't happen. She shouldn't fear death because she already knows exactly where she'll go, but yet she clings to the mortal coil like any old mortal. Her phobias have largely kept her away from the DOE, SOA, DOL and SOL, but lately her father has been, none too subtlety, encouraging her to find a guardian. Like all important things, she doesn't know how and is stumbling blindly through. She did put herself in the classifieds, as silly as that sounds: SS LF DOL/SOL ISO LTPR exp pref WTR (shapeshifter looking for Daughter of Lilith / Son of Lucifer in search of long term professional relationship, experience preferred, willing to relocate).
Writer's Disclaimer: I ramble. It's a disease. My references to specific decades and hippies are made out of ignorance: it was before my time and my parents deftly evaded pop culture (except for bell bottoms). My sister did not evade the large frizzy hair of the 80s, which due to the unlucky combo of genes she got, she will have for the rest of eternity, forever preserving that bit of history until the salons come up with something stronger to straighten and thin out her unruly lion's mane. I will not apologize if I've offended any with derogatory religious references. I am admittedly irreverent, but more importantly, my character's demon father is blatantly so, for obvious reasons, and as he sculpted her new persona, it is only appropriate that she is as well. I'm old enough to be writing smut in my country, but do try to censor my own: I don't want to be blamed for the corruption of a minor (as fun as that sounds), and more to the point, don't want accounts or forums locked. I still haven't gotten over the fact my Neopets account was locked ten years ago because I repeatedly used the word "bastard sword". If I'm taking forever and a half to reply, shoot me a pm to hurry it up: chances are I'm in a war between what the character would actually do and what would amuse me most and need the reminder that others are waiting. Or my server could be down. It happens. A lot more than one might think when an IT guy lives under the same roof, but then, that's precisely why it happens. Or I could be in the middle of an evacuation, fleeing from floodwaters. That too happens with great frequency. Okay, life happens too, but I continue to be surprised by it. If I'm really lucky, a job will happen. If it does, I'll orchestrate the killing of my character and you'll hear from me no more. Time commitments, priorities, you know the speech.